Oliver's girls
by meldahlie
Summary: What was life like for the Huttos in Boston? Missing moment from "The Yearling."
1. Chapter 1

Oliver's girls

What was life like for the Huttos in Boston? Missing moment from _"The Yearling."_

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The old lady wrapped in shawls in the rocking chair by the heater didn't move until the young woman touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Ma? Do you want some more ginger tea?"

Grandma Hutto shook her head. "No."

"It would be good for your cold, Ma."

"I haven't got a cold, Twink."

There was a pause. Twink Hutto withdrew her hand. "It's the fourth time you haven't had a cold this winter, Ma," she said with a very slight saucy edge to her voice.

A fit of chuckles sent the rocking chair bobbing to and fro. "So it is, so it is! No..." Grandma Hutto shook her head again. "It's not really a cold. Just this chilly Yankee snow. I'll be better next week."

"When Oliver comes home?"

"He always brings sunshine," Grandma nodded. "Of course, we might get some sunshine sooner if that scamp of a Jody was to write, but he doesn't do that any too often."

"Stamps are expensive," Twink observed. "Everything is expensive." She sighed.

"Don't start fretting about that," Grandma Hutto read her daughter-in-law's mind. "Oliver will be home next week with good money. And sunshine for me. And roses for you. In the meantime-" She clucked her tongue. "I suppose I'd better be having some of that ginger tea. Lord knows I'm getting sick of it, but it does warm. My old bones just aren't used to this sort of weather."

"No – I mean, yes..." Twink's agreement trailed out slowly. She turned away from the fire to look at the grey sky and drifting snowflakes outside the window. It was so very, very far from the warmth of Volusia. Even in winter. Even at Christmas...

Sharply, she turned and dropped impulsively to her knees besides the old lady's chair. "Oh, Ma! It's all because of me! The cold – the fire – the snow – you've lost everything and it's all my fault and I don't even have the words to say how sorry I-"

Twink stopped. An imperious finger had emerged from Grandma Hutto's shawls and was pointed in her face like a primed pistol.

"Now you just stop that," said Grandma Hutto fiercely. "I won't stand for anyone running down my Oliver and I won't stand for anyone running down my Oliver's wife – not even herself! Don't you think I'd give everything in this world and the next to make my Oliver happy – and you do!"

"But you-"

"No. No 'but you's." The finger wagged a little more. "If Oliver's happy, I'm happy – anywhere! And besides-" Grandma Hutto's voice softened, like a hen's feathers when it settles down from having defended its chicks. "I'm a greedy old woman. I had my Oliver, and I couldn't have asked for more in a son. Won't have wanted a string of great hulking, drunken black-eyed devils, like some people. But there was always a bit of me that wanted a little golden-haired daughter, too. And if you don't think I'd have given up all those doilies and dishpans in that old cottage to get one – you'll have to have another think!"

She reached out and stroked Twink's hair. "Oliver says his two girls are the smartest ladies in Boston. So you'd better be thinking aright."

Perhaps quiet is best for thinking aright. The snow whispered against the window. The fire crackled softly in the heater. And Oliver's two girls smiled at each other through their tears.

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	2. Chapter 2

A surprise present  


 _A/N: Happy fluff warnings!_

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"Well," said Grandma Hutto, leaning back against the cushions of her big chair and surveying the small stack of goods on the table beside her. "I think I've been given everything I might ever want for the rest of my life!"

"Don't say that, Ma," protested Twink, getting up from her own chair and beginning to gather up the coffee cups – starting with the one baby Katy was rolling solemnly up and down on the rug.

"I'm ninety years old today!" Grandma retorted. "That's old enough to say what I like about anything I like, from the weather to how long I plan on lasting!"

Twink straightened up. "I didn't mean that, Ma. I meant, don't say that when Oliver's just slipping out to fetch you one last present."

"One-?" Grandma shot a fiercely enquiring glance at the door, but it clicked shut before more could be said, and she turned back to Twink. "One last present? What is it?"

"Tt-tt-tt..." Twink picked up Grandma's cup and stepped towards the kitchen. "It's a secret, isn't it, girls? Mustn't tell secrets."

"Secret!" Libby echoed, sliding off her chair and padding after her mother with all the importance of a fine lady – or a four year old who knows a grown-up's secret. "Mustn't tell secrets!"

Whatever the last secret present was, it seemed to involve a very hasty washing-up of coffee cups, a straightening of antimacassars on chairs and the protesting wiping of both Libby and Katy's faces. Grandma watched in silence, and then tipped her head to listen to the sound of footsteps coming up the walk. "That ain't Oliver."

Twink looked in the mirror and set her hair straight. "Sounds like him."

"I may be ninety," said Grandma sharply, "but I ain't so deaf as all that! That is-"

A knock on the door. Twink jerked it open. "The present!"

"Grandma!"

"Jody!"

Somehow, the tall young man made it across the room without tripping over Libby's eager greeting or Katy's startled retreat, kissed Grandma and tumbled down beside her chair. "When Oliver's message come, Ma says you won't be knowing me, I'd grown so tall," he explained cheerily. "But I says to her, I'll jest flop down aside her chair and she can make believe I'm any age she wants! Ma sends her respects, anyway," he added.

"She does?"

"She does," Jody nodded. "Pa, he sends his love, and so do half the folks in Volusia. Even old Ma Forrester said she hoped you was keeping well, but I thought you'd like to know Ma's first, as being the most unusual."

"Has she changed?" Grandma demanded, peering at him shrewdly.

Jody shook his head. "Jest the same. Wanted me to tell you she's not a grey strand yet, that the well's built and that she thought ninety was too old to start running away with other folks' men-folks. I think she's half afraid I'm going to run away to sea with Oliver."

Grandma considered him. "Are you?"

Jody shook his head again with vigour. "I never been so sick in my life as these last two days coming up here, and your floor still seems to be swaying! But I had to see you." He smiled up at her again. "You ain't mad it was a surprise, are you, Grandma?"

"I'm not mad at you one bit," said Grandma Hutto firmly, putting out a blue-veined hand to tousle Jody's mop. "But I've something to say to that son of mine when he comes in!"

"Here he is," said Oliver, opening the door and stepping through with a promptness that showed he had been waiting just outside. "Say away!"

A small silence fell. Grandma cleared her throat, cleared it again, and raised her hand to point at Oliver. "If I had known," she said, wagging one finger at him. "If I had known my best birthday ever was going to be up here in Boston, surrounded by these Yankees, I'd have said someone had had too much sun. But it's as well no-one told me, because if they'd said I'd have to wait ninety years for my best birthday, I might have grown impatient waiting!"

She turned back to Jody. "Get up, you scamp, draw up that chair and tell me everything that's happened!"

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End file.
